The Stuff of Captains
by BlueSaber
Summary: Captain Kirk's nephew, Peter, is the only survivor in his family after the deadly neural parasitic attack on Deneva. What happens afterward? Is Peter able to adjust to the loss of his parents? Can Kirk be both captain and father? Told from Peter's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**The Stuff of Captains**

_Hi there! Thank you for clicking and taking a chance on my fic. I will preface my work by saying that I am a major newbie to the Star Trek universe. I saw my first Star Trek movie not a year ago and watched the first episode of the original series about two months ago. I'm working my way through the original series now with a friend and we promised that we'd write fics after finishing season one._

_Having said this, I apologize in advance for any mischaracterization, misuse of terms, technology, and anything else I may have screwed up. I am first and foremost a Star Wars fan, so you may notice some of that mindset here. I am quite enjoying Star Trek however, and would appreciate constructive criticism so that I can improve my writing as well as geek knowledge._

_I've also been away from for awhile and to my Star Wars readers I do apologize. I can't promise any new stuff soon, but considering I wrote this, I have seen that I do have time to plot out short stories after all. While you're at it, I would recommend reading my friend's fic, far funnier than mine, "The Enterprise gets a lecture on Sexual Harassment" by Philippa._

_One final note: this story will have about three chapters, that is, if you the readers wish me to continue. It's based on the final episode of Star Trek: The Original Series, titled "Operation: Annihilate!"._

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek_. I actually don't know who owns the franchise, but they're probably living longer and prospering more.

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There was a lot of pain for a long time. That's the best way I can describe it. I could give you images, lots of sentences about floating through a sea of red haze, fighting for every breath and thought, struggling to help my mother as she tried to shut the danger out, while she screamed and gasped for air. I could tell you of my father who kept lunging at her, twisting and writhing, his face a strange grotesque mockery of its usual stern discipline. My mother looked at his face in horror and disbelief as she pushed me further back.

"Peter, lie down and don't make any sudden movements," she told me as we tried to make our way out of the lab. My father continued his odd pantomime farther on, crying out to my mother.

"Aurelan! Aurelan! Don't let them get to you, run! Take Peter and run!" he cried. He was turning horrible shades of red.

"Sam, I won't leave you," she cried. "Fight them! Oh God, please!"

I was still lying down, watching as my mother fought with the controls to try and contact an outside star ship. There had been reports that the Enterprise was on its way—a real first-class cruiser, a discovery ship! It was headed by my uncle, a man I'd met in a time that now rendered my memories of him as vague shadows.

I felt a sting, sharp, small, precise. I cried out in pain, choking back bile. I tried to reach to my back, where something had latched on, but could not manage to stretch that far. Then the offending presence was gone and I really could not get up from the floor.

I heard my mother sobbing, crying, and a man's voice, from far away.

"Aurelan, this is Captain Kirk, it's Jim. What's going on?" the voice asked, tinny and oh so far away over the communicator.

I heard a thump and my mother was suddenly on the floor, next to me, her mouth agape in pain and horror. My father had long ago ceased to move.

"Tell Jim," my mother whispered. "Peter if you can, tell him to be careful. They'll sting and paralyze…"

She spoke no more. I would never hear her speak again.

"Mom…" I had the most random ideas enter my head, odd impulses, quirks that caused my body to jerk and shake. I had an idea that I should get up, go out and find grown-ups and begin to train in weapons, begin to build things, begin to contribute to the greater good. There was a voice, almost a presence that was urging me on to go on and do all of this.

Fight them, was what my mother had said to my dad. Both lay on the floor; neither made a sound. Even the communicator was silent now. I looked up, fighting the strange nervous impulses running through me, and then all faded to black.

They tell me that my mother woke up again, that she fought it as best she could. They tell me she lived long enough to see her brother-in-law on the USS Enterprise, that she fought against the creatures' commands long enough to give him some sort of warning, and that she died in extreme agony, but in service to the universe. My father died without a whimper. His body was recovered later and buried on earth, alongside my mother.

And me? The next thing I remember is the face of a kind nurse, blonde hair piled high on her head in the latest fashion, wearing a blue regulation outfit, holding a handy clipboard, and checking my vitals. I must have made some sound, because she turned and looked at me, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Peter! How are you feeling?"

"Unnh," I replied, feeling as if I was coming out from a long, deep sleep. I was, but I had no way of knowing that so much time had passed between my mother yelling at me and waking up in what I presumed was a hospital.

"Understandable," she smiled, eyes twinkling. "You've been exposed to more ultraviolet than I think is healthy young man, but Dr. McCoy, Captain Kirk, and Spock don't seem to agree."

I continued to try to focus on the babbling woman. "Who?" I could not quite get the words out in a coherent fashion. My brain felt like it had been slammed straight into the wall and then kneaded into soft, gooey dough.

"I'm Nurse Chapel," she smiled. "And you're onboard the U.S.S. Enterprise."

She walked away as I scanned the room, searching for the gadgetry, the technological awe and presence that I often associated with starships in my imagination. It might seem odd that a child on the Deneva colony could still retain wonder at space, but having lived planet-side for most of my waking childhood—that time when everything finally begins to clear up and you make more solid, concrete memories—and having only made starship trips a couple of times, my awe was still intact. However, I saw nothing to assuage my wanderlust in this room. In fact, it was barren, two bunks with cots on it, a couple of interesting looking machines that seemed to be measuring my body functions, a desk, and an intercom that the nurse was now talking into.

"Captain Kirk, Peter's awake," she was saying into the intercom now.

"I'll be right down. Kirk out," the reply came, clear and crisp. I struggled to sit up in attention to its sound.

"Your Uncle Jim is on his way," Nurse Chapel smiled. She had a kind face, perhaps not the most beautiful, but I basked in its attention.

"Uncle Jim?" I asked. "Where is my mom? Dad? What happened to the bad things?"

Nurse Chapel sighed. "We'll discuss that when your uncle gets here Peter. Don't worry about it for now. Just try to get some rest."

I may have been young, but every child knows when an adult is hiding information from them, especially if it's bad news.

_Whoosh._ There was a sound as the automatic doors opened on the sickbay and I heard that voice, now not tinny or far away, but up close. It boomed in a way that commanded respect. Then he was there at my bedside, eyes full of concern.

"Peter," the man said. He wore the colors of a Federation officer and he resembled my father in just enough ways that I became suddenly saddened.

"Uncle Jim? What happened? Where is everyone?" I asked, my strength returning slowly. "Did you kill those things? Did…"

"Peter," Captain Kirk interrupted. "I'm so glad to see that you're okay. I'm really sorry to tell you…your father and mother…they died trying to save your life and the millions of others on the colony at Deneva."

Shock broke over me in waves. I felt as if I had been plunged into a cold, merciless ocean. My uncle's face did not change, stern and perhaps made of the stuff of captains. It was something I could never understand, and probably never will.

"Captain, don't you think—"

"Shhh," Captain Kirk put up a hand to both stop nurse Chapel from approaching and to get her to be silent. "Peter, I'm sorry about all of this. If I, if I had been faster, better, smarter, we would have saved your parents, but I'm afraid it's my fault that they are dead. I'm sorry."

I had not realized that there were tears lurking out of my eyes. "Those evil things killed them?"

My uncle merely nodded, looking tired, old and defeated. Nurse Chapel moved over to the monitor that indicated my vital signs and seemed to be preparing a syringe. She put a hand on my arm.

"Keep breathing Peter, you're still very weak," she said. She shot a disapproving glance at the captain, similar to the type that my mom often shot my dad, although you could always see the love that shone behind her eyes.

My eyes bugged out. I was scared. What was going to happen now? A million questions raced through my head.

"Peter, I'll take good care of you," Captain Kirk said. "Please…let me…adopt you."

Then my mind, again, is a blank. I think that I woke up several times in small intervals, hearing snippets of conversation, a man's voice, with a strange twang, gruffer than my uncle's, barking out orders, then gently retracting them with a bit of kindness. Another voice, mechanical, perfect in its cadence and enunciation, reading off facts. In my more lucid moments, I realize that the sound of these voices would be enough for any dreaming child planet-side who thought of the Enterprise, but at the time they were just part of so many sounds.

Then I broke through to consciousness. The lights in the sickbay room were dimmed and I could just make out the figure of my uncle sitting in a chair near my bedside. His head was on his chest and he was lightly snoring. I blinked and tried to make out my surroundings—still the sickbay, still on a small cot, covered with a thin blanket. The monitor on the wall above my head beeped quietly. All was still.

Then there was the sudden familiarwhoosh of the doors and a figure, slight, shorter than my uncle, but determined strode in.

"Jim, what the hell do you think you're doing in here after hours?" the voice that I'd often thought of as gruff in my vague consciousness said into the silence.

Uncle Jim started with surprise, sprang out of his chair, somehow did a roll in the enclosed space, came up on the other side of the man who had just switched on the lights, and locked him in a vicious grip.

"Jim!" the man gasped, his windpipe blocked by my bleary eyed uncle.

"Oh!" my uncle promptly let go of the man, who I assumed now was his friend, and blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear it of fogginess. "Bones, you know you shouldn't wake me like that!"

"Damned fool," the slighter man gasped for air. "The hell is all your fancy martial arts academy training for? Making fools and mincemeat outta your only doctor?"

"Peter!" my uncle noticed that I was awake and rushed towards me. He smiled and before I knew it I was enveloped in a bone crushing hug. Once I was free, I found myself slightly wheezing, like the doctor who had just recovered.

"Jim, you tryin' to kill as many people as you can tonight?" the doctor, who I'd begun to think of as Dr. Bones, asked as he shoved my uncle out of the way. "Hey there son. I'm Dr. McCoy. How ya feeling?"

"Better," I finally choked out. "When can I leave?"

At this my uncle cracked up. Dr. McCoy shot him a look and turned back to me.

"Damned Kirks. All the same. When can I leave and save the universe? You're gonna stay right here at least for the night son. Then you're free to go as far as I'm concerned. You seem to have made a speedy recovery."

"Runs in the family," my uncle was smiling, although he looked a little tired.

"Yeah, along with stubbornness and foolhardiness!" there was a definite twang in the doctor's words, but I sensed that his words were not truly meant in a mean spirited sense. "You are to march straight back to your quarters captain and get to bed."

"But doctor, surely I can stay with the boy and have a few words?" my uncle made a pleading gesture with his hands and looked fiercely at the doctor.

"Fine," Dr. McCoy relented a little. "But you're outta here in five minutes, understood? I want the boy to get his rest."

"Of course doctor," my uncle turned back and winked at me, which caused me to suppress a chuckle. "What brought you down here in the first place?"

"Instinct, Jim," the doctor smiled. "I noticed you didn't head towards your quarters straight after your shift. I had a feeling if you weren't back there by this time, you'd be in sickbay."

"Bones, you impress me," the captain said.

Dr. McCoy shrugged. "Also, this is where I keep my midnight snack."

With that the doctor turned on his heel and wandered into the next room, leaving my uncle with his mouth wide open. When the doctor returned with a bag of sweets my uncle burst out laughing.

"Leonard McCoy, who would have thought?" my uncle asked.

"Five minutes Jim. I'll see you tomorrow morning Peter," was the good doctor's only reply as he shot us both a wry smile before leaving.

As the doors closed behind the doctor, my uncle turned to me and smiled. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"How are you feeling Peter?"

"Pretty well I guess," I replied. "I'm just kind of…"

"Shocked? Tired? Weak? Overwhelmed?" Uncle Jim interjected.

"Sad," I replied. "Mom and dad?"

Uncle Jim looked properly mollified. "I'm so sorry Peter. I promise I'll make it up to you. They both died fine, heroic deaths. There's to be a funeral on Deneva in a few days. I'll be beaming down to pay my respects to Sam. If you're strong enough, you can come, but you don't have to."

I looked away, staring at the blank wall as I tried to process that my parents really were dead. Mom and Dad would never be back, they'd never come in to read me bedtime stories of starship captain heroes who saved the galaxy. They'd never be there to soothe me, to chase away the monsters, to tell me it would be alright. The only person I had left was Uncle Jim and yet, I didn't know if that would be enough.

"Peter," my uncle Jim gave me another hug and patted me on the back. "Perhaps this isn't the time. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow if you're strong enough, you can visit the bridge and we'll talk more about things then."

"Uncle Jim?" I asked as the captain made a move to leave me be. "Would you…my mom used to help me sleep, when I was feeling bad. She would, sing me songs."

"Yes?" my uncle stood in a half crouch, watching me patiently.

I felt embarrassed, but I pushed on. "Would you sing me, um, would you sing me a lullaby?"

My uncle looked completely perplexed. "A lullaby? Me?"

"Please?" I asked, my inner three year old craving emotional comfort.

"I…all right," my uncle said at last, reseating himself. "I'll do my best. But don't tell the crew."

I smiled. "I won't if you won't."

"Agreed."

My uncle cleared his throat and began to softly hum a star ditty that I'd never heard before. However, it was soothing and before I knew it, my eyes were closing and finally, I was enveloped in the warm haze of sleep.

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I hope you enjoyed the first part. Please be sure to read and review! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hi again! Sorry it's been awhile since the last post, I've been caught up in this little thing called National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). If you're doing it as well, I'm sure you can understand. So far things are going well. Thankfully, Philippa called my attention to the fact that I hadn't updated.

Thank you so far your kind reviews and criticisms. You sure have made a newbie feel welcome. :) As for Peter's voice, I was imagining this as a flashback of an older Peter, thus the more mature voice. I apologize for not making this as clear.

As they say, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. If I did I'd be making liberal use of the Vulcan nerve pinch, so it's probably for the best.

* * *

The next morning found me eager and ready to leave the sickbay. I had regained pretty much full strength, and before I knew it, Dr. McCoy had released me of his charge, with Nurse Chapel eyeing me with kindness and apprehension as I examined myself in the mirror. I looked thinner and paler than before, but I felt pretty good and I liked the way I looked in the miniature Starfleet uniform they'd rigged up for me.

"Do you have junior Starfleet commanders?" I'd asked when Dr. McCoy had brought the uniform out for me.

"Not as a rule," the doctor, someone who I had quickly learned was a softie behind all his bluff, said. "But we've had some commanders of smaller stature—little people ya might say."

The uniform didn't fit perfectly because of this, but I thought I looked a bit like my uncle as I turned and twisted in the mirror. Focusing on imagining myself a great captain eased the pain of my parents. As I stood there lost in my thoughts, the automatic doors behind me finally switched open and there stood my uncle, decked out in his finest, a smile on his face.

"Ready for bridge duty Lt. Peter?" uncle Jim asked as Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel looked on.

"Yes sir!" I said, giving him a salute. Much to my consternation, this caused all the adults to laugh.

"That's the spirit Peter," my uncle winked at me. "Does he have permission to leave sickbay Len?"

"He's all yours captain," the doctor answered. "Just try to be careful with him, all right? He's not a red shirt, ya know."

"Doctor," my uncle replied in a slightly offended tone. "This is my nephew. Of course I'll take all the necessary precautions."

He turned to me and winked. I followed him out the door while the good doctor just rolled his eyes in response. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but I can't be sure.

As my uncle and I walked towards the turbolift my uncle looked down at me with some concern.

"You sure you're up for a tour Peter? You're not feeling down?" he asked.

I nodded. I had been cooped up for what seemed like forever in sickbay and I didn't want to lay around thinking about everything that had recently happened. My uncle looked relieved and even though I thought I saw that he was still sad, he bore it well. In a way it reminded me of my own father. Both of us were still hurting, I knew, but at least for me, my attention was soon diverted by the fact that I was touring _the _U.S.S. Enterprise.

It was a short turbolift ride to the bridge and I could hardly contain my excitement at the sight of all the people milling around, clipboards in hand, chattering away to each other. I did not make the mistake of saluting to them but they nodded to my uncle and gave me sympathetic smiles. I basked in the attention, further forgetting about my parents. My uncle Jim certainly had charisma and he had respect. In my eyes, he seemed like everything I had dreamed about.

At the side of the bridge was a pointy eared man who eyed me with eyebrows raised. He was so different from the others that I immediately shied away a little bit, unsure of what I was looking at.

"Spock, this is my nephew Peter. Peter, this is my first officer, Spock," my uncle said.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Peter," Spock replied. "Captain we've had a spike in readings from coordinates…"

As my uncle attended to his first mate's reports, I wandered away a little, turning to my right and finding the ship's communications officer.

"Hello there," she smiled at me. "I'm Lt. Uhura, the communications officer of this ship. You're Peter?"

I nodded eagerly. "This is a great ship. How does all this work?"

Lt. Uhura laughed. "Well you'd have to ask Mr. Spock or our engineering officer Mr. Scott about all that. All I know is how to receive transmissions and signals from other ships here at my little board."

"Mr. Scott," I repeated. "I'd rather ask him. That Spock guy is weird." I added this last bit in a whisper, peeking carefully over my shoulder to check that my uncle and the odd man were still in conversation. When I saw that they were, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Lt. Uhura laughed again, her eyes twinkling. "That son, is because he's half-Vulcan. A highly logical species. I wouldn't be too worried about him though, he'll treat you fairly, even if he won't show much emotion."

"Thanks," I replied as I felt someone put their hand on my shoulder.

"Peter," my uncle said. "Shall I show you the captain's chair?"

I grinned and practically jumped up and down on the balls of my feet. The crew around me continued to cast me amused and kind glances—excepting Mr. Spock of course, who attended to his duties with an efficiency that stunned me—as I made my way to the hallowed chair.

"Have a seat Peter," my uncle said, extending his hand at the large square, metal chair.

I blinked with surprise. "Really Uncle Jim?"

My uncle grinned, looking for a moment like a small boy himself, all earlier sadness gone from his face. "Go ahead Peter, look out the view screen. Be the captain for a moment."

I sat down into the chair and stared out over the heads of the ship's pilots to the vast star field that the U.S.S. Enterprise was traveling through. In that moment all rational thought flew from my head as I literally gaped at the vastness of space and the pinpricks of stars that surrounded me. I saw myself as a hero, a captain, leading his intrepid troops out into space, issuing commands, saving lives.

Through my excitement I heard Mr. Spock come up to my captain and whisper something urgently.

"Well, keep monitoring it," my uncle replied, although he was barely audible. "Inform me if there's the slightest change. I'm with my nephew."

"Captain," Mr. Spock replied. "I'd advise against having your nephew on the bridge at the moment."

"Spock you'd better get used to it. Haven't you heard I'm adopting him?" my uncle replied.

"Captain, that is highly illogical and most inefficient. It is too difficult to be both a father and ship commander."

"Back to your post Mr. Spock," my uncle's voice was suddenly as flat and emotionless as his first officer's. "Keep me posted on events."

"Acknowledged captain," Mr. Spock left, although I felt his gaze linger on me. To wonder about a Vulcan's thoughts is futile, so I'll simply say that I do not believe he wished me ill, but his logical mind was already sensing the danger in my uncle taking me under his wing.

Throughout this exchange, which only I seemed to have heard, I had stood stock still, memories of my parents suddenly coming back to me at a rush. Defeated, I looked away from the endless infinite galaxy of stars that had beckoned me onwards to great adventures and focused on my uncle. Uncle Jim smiled at me.

"Don't let him get you down Peter," my uncle said. "Would you like to communicate with Mr. Scott down in the engine room?"

My eyes lit up. "Boy would…"

Before I could complete my sentence however, a great jostling shook the entire ship and I cried out as I was thrown completely out of the captain's chair. The deck was momentarily at a forty-five degree angle and I felt myself slipping towards the pilot chairs. Only my uncle's hand grabbing onto my wrist stopped me from sliding down towards the view screen.

The bridge was now bathed in red light and its occupants were hard at work, issuing reports as the ship righted itself. There was a clamor of voices all calling for my uncle's attention and blurs of red, blue, and yellow shirts running around. My uncle hoisted me to my feet and after asking if I was okay, set himself in the captain's chair I had only moments before been dreaming away in.

"Report Mr. Spock," something had changed in my uncle's tone. He was now all business, commanding and regal. The shift was far from awe inspiring for me, as it clashed with all my images of starship captains. Never were they so focused, so intense, so concentrated. It scared me. Also, the way the bridge had turned into chaos from an unknown force was causing me to flashback to the attack on Deneva.

"Uncle…"I began, reaching out for my closest living relative.

"In a minute Peter," my uncle said, an apology creeping into his voice although he barely glanced my way. "Go stay by Lt. Uhura. It'll be all right."

I automatically obeyed as Spock reported that an enemy was attacking the ship.

"They're moving remarkably fast Captain," the Vulcan said. "They have no shields, their ship is highly damaged, and they are making most erratic and highly illogical choices. Unfortunately, they retain enough power to knock us out if they so chose."

"That won't be happening today Spock," my uncle answered briskly. "Can you raise any sort of communication Lt. Uhura?"

Next to me, Lt. Uhura was working rapidly, pushing buttons, flipping switches and pulling all sorts of mechanical levers as she listened to who knew what over her ear piece.

"Sir, they are sending a coded message that says they're a warship. I can't detect what planet they're from…it's unpronounceable. They say if we don't surrender within the next two minutes they will blast us out of the universe."

"Definitely not friendly," my uncle replied. "Mr. Sulu, take evasive action and prepare to fire the phasers at maximum power."

An enemy attacking with intent to kill. While just a few weeks ago I would have been excited at this prospect the sudden immediacy and sense of déjà vu made me feel sick.

"Mom, dad," I whimpered, crouching down under Lt. Uhura's small bit of desk.

Lt. Uhura shot me a glance, but she could not abandon her duties. The pilot Mr. Sulu responded to my uncle's orders as quickly as he could and I felt the ship lurch. I began to cry loudly. A few people around me stared but they were all so busy that none seemed able to reach out a hand. My uncle did not even hear me. At that moment I felt utterly alone.

"Fire phasers," I heard my uncle say. The ship rocked as the blasts left and suddenly I was back at home as my mother ordered me to lie still. The aliens were everywhere, my body was on fire and all I could see was red and my father and mother's bodies turning red, redder, and finally burning alive.

They tell me the enemy ship was easily defeated, it was taken out with only two shots of the ship's phasers. It was an easy victory that did not attempt any sort of diplomacy, but Starfleet waived that and later called it an attack by a lunatic alien group who may even have been affected by the ultraviolet rays that the U.S.S. Enterprise had used to fix Deneva a few days earlier. Whatever the case, it mattered little except that the threat was dealt with and never heard from again. Meanwhile, or so they tell me, as soon as that first shot was fired I began to scream and to scream so loudly that the ship's crew could barely hear my uncle's commands. Lt. Uhura attempted to soothe me, but I began to beat my fists on the wall, screaming for my parents again and again. It wasn't until they called Dr. McCoy up on the bridge to sedate me that they finally silenced me.


	3. Chapter 3

_So. It's been awhile since I updated this fic and I apologize! In my defense, I thought I had posted the last part and then I got caught up in school and real life for awhile. I know that's no excuse and I hope someone is still willing to finish this._

_When I wrote this, I'd just finished watching the first season of TOS, but now I've seen them all, the new movie, and a few TNG eps. I must say, this story seems a little naïve, looking back at what I knew then and how more "seasoned" I am now, so to speak. But I've made few changes here, because it's not bad for a first foray (in my humble opinion) and I thought it was only fair to you, the readers, to have the original version._

_Anyway, please read, review, or whatever. LLAP._

_**Disclaimer:** No, I still don't own Star Trek. But now I own a wonderful costume, thanks to my friend Philippa! If you haven't read her story about TOS, do check out her profile. It's gosh darned funny stuff._

_

* * *

_I didn't wake up for days. When I did I was not surprised to see Nurse Chapel's face studying me. She was gently smoothing my hair away from my face and talking about things.

"Your parents' funeral went really well. I hope you're feeling better today," she was saying when she caught sight of my open eyes and stopped. "Peter. How are you?"

"What happened?" I asked.

"You had a bit of a spell on the bridge during our last attack," Nurse Chapel explained. "I'm afraid we underestimated your grief."

"He awake Chapel?" came the doctor's familiar voice from the other sickbay room.

"Yes doctor," the nurse answered. She smiled at me as Dr. McCoy strode into the room, his eyes scanning me with concern.

"Am I okay?" I asked the doctor. "I'm sorry I did that on the bridge…did you, can you tell my uncle I'm sorry?"

"Hush now," Dr. McCoy ordered. "Your uncle had no damned business taking you up there so quickly without taking into consideration how soon after the Deneva incident it was."

I began to cry and Dr. McCoy's face immediately softened. "Now then, see here," he began gruffly before clearing his throat. "Peter, it wasn't your fault. That attack came outta nowhere. You weren't ready and I made the mistake of letting you go. Here, you can hit me right on the old noggin' if ya want."

Dr. McCoy offered his head and I sobbed a little bit more, shaking my head. The doctor straightened up and sighed.

"What's gonna happen to me now?" Young as I was, I realized that I couldn't stay on the ship. And after the last attack I didn't want to.

Dr. McCoy gave a small sigh. "We're beaming you down to Starbase Four to stay with some distant relatives. I'm afraid I can't do much more for you here, son."

I wiped my eyes. "Am I gonna be okay?"

"Sure as moonshine is slick," the doctor replied. When he saw my puzzled look he added, "That means yes. You wanna see your uncle now?"

I looked away at the wall, listening to the steady beeping of the sickbay monitors for a moment. I thought of my uncle intense and focused in that metal captain's chair. I thought of my dreams of going to the Starfleet Academy and being just like him. At the moment, the dream wasn't dashed, but it was definitely crushed. I couldn't be that—at least not yet.

"No," I said. "Not now. I want to sleep. When can I go home?"

Something in my choice of words must have affected the good doctor. "Soon, Peter. Soon."

There were no more visits or interruptions in the last two days that I spent in the sickbay. By the time I felt well enough again, Dr. McCoy had given me enough information about the family I'd be staying with and the doctor he'd recommended I'd visit. As he informed me, this woman would be able to help me better for Dr. McCoy was "a doctor, not a psychiatrist."

On my last day I sat on the edge of my bed, dressed in regular civilian clothes, my bag packed with what little I still had to call mine. Nurse Chapel hovered nervously around me, checking that my hair was in place and everything until Dr. McCoy snapped at her to stop fussing.

"Come on kid, we're going to the transporter room," Dr. McCoy said, putting a hand on my shoulder and leading me out into the halls.

It was a fairly short walk and turbo lift ride and suddenly we were in an entirely different world of the ship. I stared at the ship's gadgets, the engines and power drives, the many complicated devices that surrounded me. The final pair of doors flew open and there we were in the transporter room, five spots to stand on and a control panel helmed by a man who seemed a bit huskier, but just as amiable as the doctor.

"This is our chief engineer, Mr. Scott," Dr. McCoy said briefly. "He'll be beaming you down. Once you get there you'll be greeted by a landing party of your parents and new doctor. Unless you want one of us to beam down with you?"

Mr. Scott smiled at me. "Not me lad, I'll be running this here transporter."

I nodded and then shook my head at Dr. McCoy's question. Though I wanted to cling to somebody, I didn't want to be trouble. I still felt guilt over what pain I had caused my uncle and I just wanted to get away from everything at the moment.

"Well," the doctor said. "I know there is at least one person who wants to say goodbye to you, if you'll let him."

I paused. "My uncle?"

Dr. McCoy nodded and I hesitated. Something in me still couldn't reconcile the image of the lullaby singing, caring uncle with the merciless ship captain. Still, he looked a bit like father, and I knew I would really be a child if I left without saying goodbye.

"Okay," I replied.

Dr. McCoy stepped towards the automatic doors and leaned out. "All clear Jim."

My uncle stepped in and I felt instant relief. He stared at me and ran over to give me a hug. I hugged him back, feeling comfort in the fact that he was just my uncle again.

"Peter, I'm so sorry," my uncle was kneeling and at arms' length from me now, speaking earnestly. "I didn't mean to put you in danger on the bridge. I should have considered how rattled you'd be. Can you ever forgive me?"

I looked down, my eyes filling with tears again. "It was my fault," I began.

"Nonsense," my uncle said. "Peter, nothing was your fault, not Deneva, not the attack on the bridge. Nothing."

His words were comforting and he stared at me so closely that I began to feel lighter. I didn't feel as if he was entirely right, but he had triggered something in me. Maybe my parents' death wasn't my fault, even though it sure felt like it. Only time would tell.

"Okay," I replied.

"Peter, I'm sorry I can't take you in," Uncle Jim continued, genuine sorrow in his eyes. "But I've quickly found I can't be both a ship's captain and a father, much as I'd like to be."

"Quite wise of you," I heard a familiar and logical voice say. I peered at the Vulcan over my uncle's shoulder and even he seemed sympathetic, although I couldn't say why. He still showed no emotion on his face and his voice was even toned, yet something about him suggested that he too, was sad at this parting.

"Ah the good ol' voice of reason," Dr. McCoy quipped, though there seemed to be a catch in his voice too.

"It's okay," I told my uncle, truly meaning it. "I'll be back on a ship someday. And I'll be better."

"That's the spirit kid," Dr. McCoy grinned. Mr. Spock nodded in approval and my uncle smiled faintly as he straightened up, once again towering over me.

"I see I have underestimated you sir," my uncle told me. "Don't ever forget that if you need me I will be there."

I nodded, truly believing that not even malicious alien attackers could stop him from turning the U.S.S. Enterprise around and rushing to visit. Although he couldn't be captain and father, he could be my uncle. And that was enough for me.

"Yes sir," I said giving him a salute, which elicited a chuckle from all.

"At ease," my uncle nodded, and I could be sure if his eyes were shining with tears or not. "Good luck."

"Take it easy son," Dr. McCoy called to me as I mounted my place on the transporter platform.

"Live long and prosper," the Vulcan said, holding his hand up in a weird gesture that I didn't quite understand.

"Goodbye," was all I managed as Mr. Scott pulled the lever that transported me.

What more is there to say? Traveling through a transporter beam for the first time also was not as exciting as my first visit to a ship's bridge. I felt a strange tingling sensation, something like a rush of wind, and then suddenly I was shielding my eyes from the artificial sunlight of Starbase Four, blinking rapidly as I tried to make out the group of people awaiting my arrival.

For a moment all I saw was the red haze of the past and all I could hear were the screams of my parents mingling with those of the urgent calls on my uncle's bridge. Then I remembered my uncle's final words of comfort and love and I shook my head as my new family came out to meet me.

I stepped forward and into a new world, full of possibilities, and most of all, a chance to heal.

* * *


End file.
